Shiyuma Is A Family Man
by hadaka
Summary: But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** This is **yaoi**.

**Summary:** Shiyuma is a family man. But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.

* * *

When he was twenty-five and his name was still Shima, he broke his first big case and the director promoted him.

This, of course, put him at imminent peril. Every single one of his coworkers turned against him, discreetly or not, and the knives came out. But Shima had long since known there wasn't really any such thing as cooperation or a reliable ally in a position such as the one he'd managed to get for himself, and he took the subsequent backstabbing and intrigues with a cool, level head and a calm, deliberate manner that impressed his superiors and got him another promotion before he was twenty-seven. Such was his performance that he was even made bureau chief of a very sensitive project, and Shima's name began to mean something in counterintelligence. Scuttlebutt was that he was even a candidate for a directorship, before the age of thirty, and possibly even an overseas assignment.

Then Shima found out that his wife of seven years was pregnant.

There was nothing else to be done. They had been struggling to conceive for five years—their parents were getting on, after all—and she'd suffered too many miscarriages to make an abortion even a remote possibility. Not that Shima wanted an abortion—he yearned to be a father just as much as his wife wanted to be a mother. The idea of a son growing in her womb made what he did next absurdly easy.

Shima resigned from his position as bureau chief and requested a transfer home.

It caused less of an uproar than he'd expected. The director was very understanding, and only mildly regretful that Shima's counterintelligence training would, after all, only be used in a supporting, rather sidelined role. There was always room in the organization for a man of Shima's particular skill set—it was simply understood that he would never, now, rise above the first tier.

Shima accepted this wholeheartedly, with such good humor and stoic acceptance that when the news got out that his wife was about to give him a son and that was why the rising star of Counterintelligence was, in effect, committing career suicide, even his former enemies at the office clapped him on the back and bought him a drink.

It was nearly eight weeks before Shima's wife was due that the leak was discovered. Someone in the deepest levels of the agency had been caught selling information. No one knew who, but the director assured them that it was taken care of. There was only some clean-up to conclude, as not all of the stolen data had been recovered.

That was when Shima and his wife found themselves changing their names and relocating to a completely different part of Japan. The most difficult part was in being separated from their parents, but the agency assured them that after a few years, once the security issues were resolved, they would be able to visit. Shima was instructed to take up a job at a shell outfit being run as a paper company. He would still be counterintelligence, but as far as his neighbors were concerned, he was a salaryman.

So at the age of twenty-nine, Yoshikawa Shima became Kobayakawa Shiyuma and the father of a baby boy, born a month premature.

They named him Sena.

And despite the fact that Shima—now Shiyuma—had survived nearly ten years in the depths of a Japanese intelligence agency, despite the fact that he had survived North Korean spies, domestic terrorists, bringing down an Iraqi partisans' communications network, a security leak in his own bureau, and the Soviet Union, it was only then, when he was at the hospital beside his drowsing wife and holding his sleeping infant son in his arms, that Shiyuma felt, for the first time in his life, a chill of sheer terror raising the hair on the back of his neck.

_Why does he look like this?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** This is **yaoi**. And **silly**, verging on **crack**.

**Summary:** Shiyuma is a family man. But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.

* * *

When Sena was five, he brought a preschool classmate named Tesshou home with him and Shiyuma got a taste of what the next thirteen years were going to be like.

This was also when his hair began thinning. Shiyuma did not believe in coincidence.

He realized that it was fundamentally irrational to dislike a six-year-old for his behavior, but _goddamn_, what a brat. Loud and obnoxious, even then. Not quite so foul-mouthed—he was _six—_but just as demanding and noisy as he would be later. Was there anything in the house that Tesshou didn't throw? Didn't break? Shiyuma, home after a long, boring day of analyzing Chinese farming equipment—troop—transport numbers, struggled to hold on to his calm behind his daily newspaper and cup of tea while his wife tried to feed the two boys and Tesshou carried on a long, one-sided, very loud conversation with who he probably thought was Sena but actually wasn't anyone in particular.

"Sena, we're gonna grow up together and go to the same high school!"

"Un," Sena would say good-naturedly. Everything Sena did was good-natured. And _quiet_.

"And we'll be _nakama_, and I get to be boss but you can be my _otouto_, and I won't let anyone push you in the back like them stupid Muroto jerks today—"

Both Shiyuma and Mihae paused.

"—and it's gonna be good!"

"Un," said Sena around a mouthful of pudding.

Tesshou looked at Sena and Shiyuma was dismayed to see what was clearly sheer adoration in that brat's eyes. Mihae thought it was the cutest thing ever. She doted over both of them, giving them Sena's box of toys to play with before she tended to the wash-up. Sena was playing with his family of rabbit dolls (but Mihae, _why_?) and Tesshou watched Sena play with his rabbit dolls and Shiyuma watched Tesshou watch Sena play with his rabbit dolls.

"Ne, Sena-chan," said Tesshou. He was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. "When we're both big, you wanna marry me?"

Shiyuma nearly spit out his tea.

"Un," said Sena, walking Mother Rabbit and Father Rabbit to a picture of a carrot field he'd drawn with his crayons.

Tesshou grinned widely enough to show all his missing baby teeth. Then he got to his knees and took Sena's hands in his.

"I'll be the _coolest_ husband ever, Sena-chan," he promised.

Sena stuck out his bottom lip as he looked at his rabbit dolls, which he'd been forced to drop. "Fell," he observed sadly.

Tesshou helped Sena arrange his rabbit dolls into a family picnic. Shiyuma tried to get his eye to stop twitching.

When Tesshou's mother came to get him that night, he threw a tantrum to end all tantrums. Shiyuma had seen waterboardings go more smoothly. Tesshou clung to Sena, wouldn't let go, and then tried to take Sena with him.

_"Nooo,"_ Tesshou howled. _"Sena-chan! Nooo! I gotta stay with Sena-chan!"_

Kawachi-san was terribly embarrassed. "I don't know why he's being like this," she kept repeating. "I'm so sorry, I'm—Tesshou! Let go of Sena-chan this—"

Sena didn't get upset at all. He kept patting Tesshou on his cheek, telling him, "Night, Shou-chan! Tomorrow, Shou-chan!" When Tesshou clung to his neck, Sena laughed and patted him on the back.

Finally, Kawachi-san managed to get Tesshou outside and into the car. Shiyuma watched Tesshou's little fists banging on the window all the way down the street and around the corner.

"Dear," he said then, to Mihae, who was holding a drowsing Sena, "I just want you to know that our son might be slightly stupid."

"Yes, dear," said Mihae, not batting an eye. She'd reacted the same way when he told her the Soviets might be trying to kill him. How Shiyuma loved her.

"And this is just a feeling I have," he added, "but we may be having some trouble with boys later."

"I see you haven't met Guri-kun," said Mihae.

"What?"

"Nothing, dear."

Shiyuma wasn't so petty as to hold a grudge against a six-year-old. That was nonsense. But if Kawachi-san's husband _happened_ to abruptly receive a promotion that involved immediate transfer to an office in a different city and the Kawachis ended up having to move quite suddenly only a week later, well. Shiyuma could hardly be blamed for savoring the peace and quiet.

Shiyuma, 1. Six-year-old, 0.

The week after that, Shiyuma set himself to the task of teaching Sena about personal space and who was and who wasn't allowed to be in it. Mother Rabbit and Father Rabbit did what they could to help.

He had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be nearly enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** This is **yaoi**. And **silly**, verging on **crack**.

**Summary:** Shiyuma is a family man. But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.

* * *

When Sena was seven, he brought home two boys named Zenmei and Koumei and this turned out to be the earliest warning sign Shiyuma got that he would always have trouble with bad boys.

Zenmei and Koumei were brothers, and if they'd had the words _thug_ and _life_ written on their respective foreheads, Shiyuma would not have been surprised. The sneers. The attitudes. The mean, glaring look that the older one, Zenmei, had already begun to cultivate. Was he really _nine_? He looked as if he spent his Saturdays knocking over liquor stores. And the _younger_ brother, the eight-year-old, who clearly worshiped the ground his brother walked on and looked to be following in his footsteps. Jesus. Shiyuma gave serious consideration to the idea of arranging to have these boys taken from their parents, because clearly _somebody_ was fucking up.

Except.

Throughout greeting Shiyuma, the Muroto brothers displayed consummate delinquent behavior. They glared at him, they didn't bow, they slouched and stuck their hands in their shirts and they barely muttered their thank yous when Mihae asked if they'd like cake. They swaggered (_nine_ and _eight_, seriously, their parents should be in _jail_) right into the house, following Sena, and Shiyuma had to _physically restrain_ himself from immediately throwing them both right back out.

He took cover behind a newspaper instead.

"No, _I'm_ playing!"

"I am!"

"I'm the oldest, wait your turn!"

"Sena asked _me_ first!"

"You were just closer! I'm playing!"

They were fighting over the PS2. Shiyuma had expected it. He peered over the edge of his paper and there they were, grappling over the controller, with Sena sitting off to one side looking distressed—

—with a controller in his hands?

"Zen-chan, Kou-chan," protested Sena. He'd gotten to his feet and was pulling on Zenmei's sleeve. "No, no fighting. Here, Kou-chan can play for me."

Was his son a pacifist or a pussy? Shiyuma didn't know yet. But having a son was a lot more like having a daughter than he'd thought it would be.

Then Zenmei turned to Sena.

"No," he said. "That's Sena-chan's."

"Yeah," added Koumei.

Shiyuma let the top of his newspaper fold down.

"No, it's OK," said Sena. "I don't want to play, Zen-chan and Kou-chan can. I'll watch."

"No," repeated Zenmei. "Sena-chan _always_ gets to play."

"No excepts," insisted Koumei.

"Zen-chan—"

"Sena-chan's too nice," said Zenmei. "This is why you get bullied."

"That's OK, though," said Koumei. "Since from now on we're gonna beat up anyone who picks on Sena-chan."

"But stay away from Hanaki. He's bad."

"He's a perv."

"Un," said Sena agreeably—and a little _furtively_, as if he were trying to avoid giving a further answer.

Zenmei grinned and stuck his hand in Sena's hair. "But it's OK for Sena-chan to be nice. I like it."

"I like it _more_," protested Koumei.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up! And don't get so close to Sena-chan!"

"Idiot! I can get as close to my wife as I want!"

"Sena-chan's not your wife, he's mine!"

It was at this point that the newspaper Shiyuma was holding tore in half. No one noticed as the brothers were too busy fighting over whose wife Sena was and Sena was too busy trying to get them to stop hitting each other. Shiyuma got up from his place by the window and went quietly into the kitchen.

"Dear," he said to his wife, who was placing slices of cake on plates. "Did you know that our son is accepting marriage proposals from his friends?"

"Don't worry, dear," said Mihae without even turning around to look at him. "He doesn't really know what it means."

"I really don't—"

"And Guri-kun asked first anyway."

Shiyuma quietly left the kitchen.

Sena sat between Zenmei and Koumei as they ate cake, and then they all played Dynasty Warriors together with the brothers taking turns on one controller. It was decided that Zenmei got to be Lu Bu and Koumei got to be Gan Ning and Sena had to be Xiao Qiao because she was the younger, cuter sister. That sounded like the most distorted version of _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_ that Shiyuma had ever encountered, but Zenmei maintained that Sena could not be Diao Chan because Diao Chan "is a ho." Shiyuma couldn't find a fault in that logic.

At close to nine, Zenmei and Koumei left on their own.

"But Zenmei-kun," said Mihae worriedly, "won't someone be coming to get you?"

The brothers shifted their weight on their feet, looking uncomfortable. And that was how Shiyuma found himself taking the Muroto brothers home.

The entire way, the boys acted as if he didn't exist. He walked behind them and listened as they fought over what to eat at home, who got which futon, and who got to hold Sena's hand when they walked into school tomorrow from the crosswalk. When they reached the rundown apartment complex they'd given as their address, Zenmei and Koumei rushed in without even glancing at him. Shiyuma watched to make sure they went into an apartment, and then he just looked at it for a few more minutes before turning back around and going home to Mihae and Sena.

Looking up the brothers' parents wasn't difficult. Their mother had run off nearly three years ago and lived in Osaka with a boyfriend. Their father worked in construction but had a gambling problem, and had been arrested for drunkenness twice already. The only reason Zenmei and Koumei were even in school was because of a grandmother in Kodaira who made sure they went.

Shiyuma was not a man given to feelings of guilt or heartache. Neither was he heartless, but this was not his family. There was only so much he could do without abusing his resources. And it couldn't be avoided that these two already had their feet firmly set on a path that Shiyuma was determined his own son would not follow.

He made a few calls.

Two weeks later, Sena came home in tears.

"Zen-chan and Kou-chan had to move," he sniffled into Mihae's apron. "They're going to live with their grandmother because their dad got a new job in Tokyo."

Mihae eyeballed Shiyuma. He pretended not to see.

"I miss them," whimpered Sena, and Mihae spent the rest of the night consoling Sena for the loss of his niichans.

"Don't worry, Sena," Mihae was saying. "You still have Guri-kun."

"No," wept Sena. "Guri Guri is scary. I want Zen-chan and Kou-chan."

Shiyuma opened his newspaper. He hated to see Sena cry.

The next day, a boy named Shougo walked Sena home and carried his bag for him. Mihae served them pudding and called Shougo her son-in-law and Shiyuma drank a fifth of Johnny Walker and ran a background check.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** This is **yaoi**. And **silly**, verging on **crack**.

**Summary:** Shiyuma is a family man. But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.

* * *

When Sena was eight, he named his mommy panda doll _Sena-mama_ and his daddy panda doll _Shou-papa_, and Shiyuma decided Mihae had to be stopped.

"Dear," he said one day after dinner, when Sena had gone to the nearby park with Shougo, "I think maybe this is too far."

"You're being paranoid, Shi-chan," said Mihae. She _knew_ he hated it when she called him that. "Frankly, I think Sena could do a lot worse than Shougo-kun."

"Shougo's a punk."

"_Zenmei_ was a punk. Shougo is a nice boy."

"So you're all right with not having grandchildren?"

"They could adopt."

"You don't want grandchildren of your own?"

"Dear, you _know_ that I always fall asleep after you and wake up before you."

Shiyuma changed strategies. "Shougo's grades are terrible."

"Only because he doesn't try."

"Is that the kind of boy you want for our Sena? One who doesn't try?"

"Shougo's very smart, Shi-chan. He scored in the top ten percentile on the practice high school entrance exam."

At _ten_? _Shit. _"That's even worse. Do you want our son to grow up with an inferiority complex?"

Mihae stopped folding laundry and turned to face Shiyuma. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to, because the look on her face did it for her.

Shiyuma made a tactical retreat.

Shougo seemed to take his Mihae-appointed position of future son-in-law very seriously. He walked Sena home every day, and if he couldn't, he always called ahead to let them know. Once, when they both stayed after class until it was dark, Shougo even called from the pay phone and asked for someone to come and pick Sena up because he didn't think Sena "should be out after dark without an adult." Mihae swooned like a girl and Shiyuma ended up walking to the elementary school to pick up his son.

Sena himself seemed to have no problems with his mother's apparent plans for him.

"Sena," tried Shiyuma once, "don't you, er, want to make other friends?"

Sena shook his head. "Uh-uh."

Shiyuma's eye started to twitch. He put his hand over it. Sena gave him a strange look. "You should have lots of friends."

"Shou-nii is enough," said Sena firmly. "Shou-nii takes care of Sena."

Sena was talking in the third person? _Why?_ "Has he…he hasn't said anything about getting married, has he?"

Sena shook his head. Shiyuma breathed a little easier, at least until Sena continued, "Shou-nii says Shou-nii and Sena should just live together for a while." Sena's voice took on a pedantic tone like he was repeating something he'd heard. "Rushing into a marriage is certain disaster. Wait and find happiness in patience."

His son was a fortune cookie. "That's…that's probably wise."

"Shou-nii is very smart."

Shiyuma was getting tired of hearing that. "But Sena, didn't you already promise Zenmei and Koumei and—" Jesus Christ, was he actually having to go back and count? "—Tesshou that you'd marry _them_?"

Sena didn't even look embarrassed. "Sena asked Shou-nii. Shou-nii says Sena shouldn't worry because Shou-nii will take care of it."

Shou-nii should be in Human Resources, was what Shiyuma was thinking. He'd never imagined a ten-year-old could come across as vaguely threatening by eight-year-old proxy.

Then Sena's expression faltered.

Somewhat apprehensively, he said, "Guri Guri would be really mad, though."

Who the _fuck_ was Guri Guri? "I…I think Shougo can probably take him."

Sena frowned, but said, somewhat dubiously, "Un."

Shougo himself didn't behave in any particular way, other than being almost obsessively overprotective and inhumanly patient. If it bothered him to have an eight-year-old hanging off his arm, he didn't show it. He referred to Shiyuma as Uncle and Mihae as Aunt, and genuinely seemed to think of himself as Sena's oniisan.

Then Shiyuma looked closer.

He noticed little things. Like how Shougo seemed to intensely dislike anyone else coming physically close to Sena, though he never showed his displeasure except through a slight frown. Or how he was selective about who he let talk to Sena—girls were OK, boys Sena's size or smaller were all right, but anyone taller than Sena got a glare that sent the other brat running for cover. And how Shougo would always have an eye on Sena, whatever he was doing, wherever he was, to the point that it was almost disturbing to see in a ten-year-old.

Shiyuma couldn't make up his mind. Was Shougo an overprotective brother-figure or a controlling sociopath? Decisions, decisions.

"Shougo-kun," he said at one point, "don't you want to hang out with boys your own age?"

Shougo, who'd been waiting patiently for Sena to get his coat from his room, looked directly at him. "Uncle, I know what you're doing."

_Don't pull a knife,_ Shiyuma told himself.

"Please don't worry," said Shougo. "I'll always take very good care of Sena."

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_ Shiyuma wanted to shout. Instead he arranged his face into a mildly friendly expression and lifted his newspaper. "Very nice."

Problem was, Shiyuma couldn't really see a clear way out. Shougo's mother was a housewife and Shougo's father held a senior position in an IT company in that city, which made a job transfer difficult to engineer. Neither were there any close relatives living near any prestigious schools that offered scholarships. Shiyuma really didn't want to take a hit out on a ten-year-old, but he was running out of options.

"Shi-chan, just stop," Mihae told him. "You're going to give yourself another ulcer."

Finally, Shiyuma threw both caution and ulcer medicine to the wind. The weekend after he caught Sena introducing the panda doll family's new adopted Chinese babies, Shiyuma spent Saturday evening downing a bottle of Starka and hacking into the secure networks of Shougo's father's IT company's satellite branch in Sapporo. By one o'clock that morning, Shiyuma was praying to the porcelain god and the IT company's secure files were so fucked up that within hours a senior administrator from the home office was being indefinitely transferred over with no notice to do damage control and on-site monitoring.

Sena cried for _days_.

"I can't believe you," said Mihae to him at one point. "Look at what you've done! Sena's going to cry himself sick. And Shougo was devastated! Honestly, I'm almost ashamed of you!"

Shiyuma wanted to feel bad. He really did. But for some reason, all that came out was smug.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** This is **yaoi**. And **silly**, verging on **crack**.

**Summary:** Shiyuma is a family man. But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.

* * *

When Sena was nine, someone at the playground saw a man trying to convince Sena to go with him into a car. Sena, well-rehearsed by his parents, unquestioningly refused. The man then attempted to drag Sena away, and it was uncertain what would have happened had a boy at the elementary school named Hisashi not taken matters into his own hands.

They said later that the boy had stabbed the man in the leg, arm, and hand with a mechanical pencil upwards of five times. This forced the man to release Sena and stopped him long enough that someone was able to shout for help. Several teachers came running, but the man got into his car and left before anyone could get close enough. The license plate number was written down, the police notified, and Shiyuma got the call while cross-referencing last month's covert North Korean nuclear product movement data to this month's.

Shiyuma, who knew what the inside of a Siberian gulag looked like, had never felt such a rush of cold fear.

When he arrived at the school, Mihae was already there. She was sitting in the principal's office next to Sena, who was in one of two chairs. On Sena's other side was the boy who had saved him, and their hands were tightly clasped together.

"Kobayakawa-san," said the principal, who looked very strained. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for this to happen at our school."

Sena's teacher was there, bowing and apologizing, tears in her eyes. But Shiyuma couldn't look at anyone or anything but his son, who was sitting quietly between his mother and the other boy.

"This is Hisashi-kun," said the principal. "He is the one who prevented the stranger from taking Sena."

Hisashi sat in his chair, eyes calm and focused. He looked relaxed, as if that wasn't someone's blood staining his sleeve.

Sena was trembling. Shiyuma hadn't been able to see it until he got close enough. Sena's face was pale and Shiyuma could see where the tears had been recently wiped away.

His hand was in Hisashi's. Shiyuma thought for a moment that Sena was the one clutching Hisashi's hand so tightly, but when he knelt down in front of the boys, he saw how Hisashi's own fingers were clenched around Sena's, so that they gripped each other's hands.

"Sena," said Shiyuma. "Dad is here."

Sena didn't say anything. Hisashi looked at Shiyuma.

Shiyuma stood back up. "You have the license plate number?"

He could tell that the teacher and the principal were baffled by how composed he was. The principal handed him a piece of paper with a number on it, which Shiyuma memorized with a glance.

"Mihae-san," he said then, "will you take Sena home?"

The teacher's eyes widened. Both she and the principal stared when all Mihae said was "Of course, Shiyuma-san."

Shiyuma glanced again at Sena, then at Hisashi. The look Hisashi gave him back was level and considering, not the look of a child. Something like distaste rippled through Shiyuma's calm, and then he left.

When he returned home late that night, Hisashi was there.

"His father didn't come," murmured Mihae as she met him at the door. "I couldn't bear to leave him."

She didn't ask where he'd been. He didn't offer.

It destroyed Shiyuma to see how this affected his son. Sena had always been such a sweet, cheerful boy, smiling and laughing for everyone, open and loving. Now he was sitting mutely at the table, his chair pulled close by Hisashi's. His pallor had not improved and he barely picked at his food. Whenever he put down his chopsticks, his hand would automatically go out to clutch at Hisashi's shirt.

Hisashi didn't seem to mind. If anything, he seemed to take it as expected for Sena to cling to him, and rather than complain, he was patient, if quiet, and held Sena's hand whenever his own was empty.

By nine o'clock, Hisashi's father had not come. Mihae called the number to Hisashi's house repeatedly, but it was useless.

"Hisashi-kun," said Mihae, ignoring Shiyuma's look, "would you like to stay here tonight?"

Sena's hands immediately took hold of Hisashi's sleeve, as if he was terrified Hisashi might say no. That answered the question.

Mihae called their teacher to update her of the situation, and then she put Hisashi and Sena to bed. She hadn't even left the room when Sena slipped from his futon into Hisashi's and laid his head against Hisashi's shoulder. Hisashi didn't even open his eyes, but only put that arm around Sena's back and stroked Sena's hair reassuringly. Shiyuma didn't have the heart to even be alarmed.

Two days later, the newspapers reported on the apparent suicide of a convicted child molester released from prison the year before. He was from Saitama and had broken parole. There was embarrassment all around on the part of the authorities and several extensive apologies were made to the general public. Three parole officers were disciplined.

By the time a week had passed, Sena had begun to recover. He laughed more easily, and his smile wasn't as fragile at it had been. He still stayed very close to Hisashi, and Hisashi stayed over most nights, but neither Mihae nor Shiyuma minded.

Hisashi's father also did not mind. He owned a company that was apparently going through some anxious times, and was always very difficult to reach. He seemed relieved if anything that his son had a place to go to most of the week, and regularly sent gifts of fruits or delicacies to show his appreciation. Shiyuma met the man once, and got from him the impression of an extremely harried but otherwise quite pleasant individual. He did do some background work, just to make sure Hisashi's father wasn't mixed up with yakuza or anything too dangerous, but everything seemed in order.

So when Hisashi's father committed suicide nearly five months later, Shiyuma found himself in the hateful position of being taken completely by surprise.

The last time Sena saw Hisashi as a child, he threw his arms around Hisashi's neck, distraught and weeping. Hisashi himself hadn't shed a single tear, not since the moment he found his father at home. But now he put his arms around Sena, holding him tightly, his face in Sena's neck, and Shiyuma could not see if the boy was crying or not.

When Hisashi had left with his mother's relatives, Shiyuma took Sena home.

"Sena," he tried asking, "are you sad?"

Sena didn't answer for a long while. Shiyuma kept walking, Sena's mittened hand warm in his gloved one.

"Dad," said Sena, "boys can't get married, can they?"

Shiyuma—paused. "Er, no."

"OK." Sena was quiet for a few more steps. Then, "I'd marry Hisa-nii if I could."

"Um." What to say to that? _At least you don't have to worry about in-laws? _Shiyuma's eye twitched. _I'm going straight to hell._ "Oh."

Another block passed.

Sena asked, in a small voice, "Do you think Hisa-nii could take Guri Guri?"

Shiyuma _had_ to get someone to tell him who Guri Guri was. "Depends. Is he holding a pencil?"

Mihae and he waited for a long while, but Sena never did go back to being their baby. He was quieter than he had been, and much more diffident, his manner almost nervous around strangers and children he didn't know. His teacher called out of concern a few weeks on, mentioning that Sena seemed to be having some trouble with bullying, especially some brat by the name of Takefumi, but Sena wouldn't say anything to his parents.

Shiyuma was a counterintelligence officer, not a therapist. He felt helpless and awkward in the face of his son's changing person as he never had as a covert agent, not even that time in Singapore with the slave traffickers. It was nauseating to realize that there were some things from which he could do nothing to protect his own son.

For several days after Hisashi left, Shiyuma took time off from work and stayed home. But Sena maintained his reticence on the whole affair, so Shiyuma ended up spending most of that time in his study with his laptop, not enough ulcer medication, and too much Grey Goose.

Hisashi's father's former business partners had a very, very bad week.


End file.
